


Touche.

by pandashurley



Series: Duel [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry!John, Established Relationship, Hints of Johnlock - Freeform, Jealousy, Longing, M/M, Revenge, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandashurley/pseuds/pandashurley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is going through a break up, Sherlock is bored, Jim doesn't want to feel like a second choice. Moral of the story, keep your phone close by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touche.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 2/3/13- Just fixing some continuity and adding some details. Needed a little bit more, yeah? Hopefully I can tear the third part out of me soon!

Sentiment never came particularly easy to Sherlock Holmes. Friends and feelings were commodities that were only useful as a means to an end. John Watson had changed all that. Even from their first, albeit brief, meeting in the lab of St. Barts, Sherlock knew that there was something different about this seemingly bland army doctor. It was an unspoken something between the two of them, but it was a strong bond that could not be broken. For the first time in the life time Sherlock could remember, he felt complete. It was what he imagined floating molecules would feel after bonding to a compound, if molecules had feelings. It had also become highly distracting thinking in feelings. Sometimes John would tease him, especially around Christmas, spouting some nonsense about his heart growing three sizes.

  
Though for all the distractions that were John Watson, he was incredibly oblivious. Sherlock hoped that it was genuine ignorance and that it wasn't feigned, though either if brought to light would be mortifying for both. Sherlock sighed. It had been over a week since he last saw Jim and John's holiday seemed to have worked wonders for his relationship since he had only been home a few nights. The flat felt empty and lonely. Every time John would get up to leave or hadn't come home sometime in the night, Sherlock wondered if he should have taken Jim up on his offer. Moran could have gone out there to scare them. Normally, Sherlock would have spent the weekend texting John, but his attentions had been kept other wise occupied... and the bruises and love bites were still healing.

  
The streets had gone dark and Sherlock wasn't sure if John was coming home. It was supposedly still early, John could be stumbling home from a pub. Though the likelihood of that was infinitesimal. Sherlock was sitting by the fire, watching the door. It had been a quiet day around the flat, Mrs. Hudson had come up for a visit. They had tea and talked about where John had gotten himself, the light in her eyes dying a little when Sherlock mentioned his lady friend. Mrs. Hudson had always known about Sherlock and his unique sexuality. She had sensed the chemistry between himself and John within moments. It's why Sherlock loved her. Without her, his England would cease to exist as he knew it. With a frown, Sherlock picked up his phone and scrolled through the texts. Nothing from John, nothing from Jim, nothing from Mycroft, nothing from Lestrade. He stopped himself from throwing his phone against the wall by typing out a quick message to John.

  
**I know it's none of my business, but are you going to be coming home tonight? SH**

  
John had taught him to be more honest, more open, more apologetic. He had been trying to reach out to John, little by little. Though definitions of little could be widely variant.

  
**Planning a party? An orgy? Some horrid experiment that I should come rescue some of my more important things from? JW**

  
**Simple curiosity, John. SH**

  
**To be honest, Sherlock, I'm not sure at the moment. We're having a bit of a row. JW**

  
Sherlock paused. John had always told him to be more concerned, more sentimental. It never made any sense. In this particular case, Sherlock was lost. All he wanted to say was something about how she wasn't good enough for him and he should come home and they should have tea and watch horrid telly. Though with the almost promise of another night without John, Sherlock's mind had started wondering what Jim was doing. If he was still in London, if he could be here tonight.

  
**Things seemed to be going well. I don't understand. SH**

  
**Believe me, neither do I. I'll keep you posted. JW**

  
Sherlock sighed. John wouldn't spend the money on a hotel, regardless if Sherlock asked him to or not. It was a split chance that John would come home tonight, and if Jim were here, it wouldn't end well for anyone. As supportive as Sherlock wanted to be, he wasn't entirely sure that he could handle another night of John's alcohol induced self-pity. Whining about how he'll never find love, a wife, how he'll never have children. Sherlock would always silently wish that John wouldn't be so blind. That he would see how perfect they were for each other. How they could spend the rest of their lives together. Sherlock shook his head and shifted to poke the fire. He threw a few more logs on the fire and waited for them to catch, watching the fire dance and sway as it consumed the logs beneath it. Sherlock picked up his phone again.

  
**I assume you aren't in London. SH**

  
**Why, Sherlock Holmes, do you miss me? JM**

  
**Sentiment aside, I'm bored and it looks like John is going to be out again. SH**

  
**My my. Don't I feel like a second choice. JM**

  
Sherlock frowned. Jim was becoming more and more bitter about his attraction to John. While Jim had an obsession with Sherlock, Sherlock found himself having a small infatuation himself. Jim's voice and smile said that he was tolerant of it, but his eyes always screamed with pain and jealousy. Sherlock knew how highly Jim thought of him, Jim's plans for thier future. However entertaining a life of crime was, it wasn't the path Sherlock had chosen to walk down. Especially with being clean for years now. It didn't hold the same level of seduction for him anymore. Sherlock sighed and decided, like he always did, that if he couldn't have John, he would have Jim. It wasn't settling. It really wasn't.

  
**You are anything but. SH**

  
**I wouldn't be contacting you if I wasn't thinking of you. John being gone provides an excuse for you to be here. SH**

  
**Jim... SH**

  
Sherlock groaned. There was no good coming out of this day. It was almost excuse enough to clamber into bed and try to sleep. Sounding sincere was coming out making him sound like an arse. Sherlock knew the two would never get along which is why the relationships never intersected. John would be scared and angry, Jim would be jealous and angry. Neither were a good combination for their counterpart. No matter how many times he played the scene in his head, there was always someone backed into a corner with lots of shouting and blood. This was to be avoided at all costs.

  
**You're the only one who understands this sort of loneliness. SH**

  
**You would only be a second choice if I were sleeping with John. Which I am not. SH**

  
This had to stop. He was sounding whiny, needy and desperate. That wasn't what their relationship was. Here sat the Great Sherlock Holmes, bored and lonely, trying to get what could only be considered his boyfriend over to his flat. Making Jim understand was the most difficult part of all of this. What he wanted from John was something entirely different from the mental and carnal relations he had with Jim. John had the ability to understand on a different level, and to love him unconditionally. Jim merely wanted to possess.

  
**I still cannot believe you haven't seduced that little stud muffin yet. I'm sure he's dynamite in bed... JM**

  
**Thinking of trading me in for a better model? SH**

  
**Love, of course not. While he might be a handful in the bedroom, letting him speak before, during or afterward would completely kill my mood. JM**

  
**You're already enough to handle. SH**

  
**Just think of the two of us together, building you up... taking you apart. It would be like fucking an angel and a demon at the same time. JM**

  
Now there was something he hadn't considered. Though John's safety would probably make it one of the most awkward experiences of Sherlock's life, if he could somehow get the two to cooperate... It would probably be something that would never be deleted from his mind palace. Nowadays, if John was involved, the memory or thought wasn't going to be deleted anyway. Sherlock bit his lip at the thought before texting back.

  
**You know that is no where near fair territory. SH**

  
**Like that's going to stop me, pet. JM**

  
**So are you in London or not? SH**

  
**Depends. JM**

  
**Depends on what? SH**

  
**How badly you want me there. JM**

  
**Bad enough to beg for mercy? JM**

  
**Twice? JM**

  
**I never beg. SH**

  
**I have recordings that would completely disprove that statement. JM**

  
Sherlock was shocked. He had no knowledge that Jim had recorded them and was not pleased to learn it. He could hardly fault him though, there were some moments where they had been together that Sherlock had locked away in his mind palace. Eidetic memory was often a good thing. It still didn't stop the small swell of anger in his chest.

  
**You utter bastard. That was done without my knowledge or consent. SH**

  
**They keep me occupied when I can't be with you. JM**

  
**They? There are multiples? SH**

  
**Of course, baby. I was saving that knowledge for blackmail someday, but sentiment can do funny things to an overly intelligent psychopath. JM**

  
**Apparently. SH**

  
**Are you mad at me? Do I need to be punished? Disciplined for doing something naughty? ;) JM**

  
**I can't very well punish you over the phone. SH**

  
**For an intelligent person, you are completely stupid sometimes. Use the phone, Sherls. JM**

  
**Entice me, then. JM**

  
Sherlock froze. This was new, this was different. In person, it was so much easier. Jim was usually the one who did the seducing regardless. He was the one who liked to play elaborate mind games. Sherlock, as Jim had once compared him, was much like a light switch. Once it was on, Sherlock was unstoppable. Sherlock had countered with something along the lines of light switches not being sentient and therefore couldn't turn themselves on, which is why Jim hardly asked for Sherlock to start things. Since sex was now swimming through Sherlock's overly vivid imagination, it was a little easier to start. As he started typing out the message, he started to wonder how different Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet would have been different with mobile phones.

  
**I miss the color of your eyes, even more so when your pupils are blown open and I can barely see your irises. SH**

  
**I love hearing how you say my name, breathy and needy, as I kiss down your chest. SH**

  
**Leaving love bites on your hips and thighs as I tease around your cock, waiting for you to beg for my mouth. SH**

  
**Do you know how perfect the curve of your spine is when you arch? When I finally take your aching, waiting cock into my mouth? It's stunning... SH**

  
**I love the way you taste. All of you. That spot behind your ear, the inside of your hot mouth, your collarbone, that spot right below your belly button. Licking, biting and kissing every single one. Though your cum is by far my favorite. SH**

  
**What does my skin taste like? JM**

  
**Summer rain, salt, with an tingly aftertaste of nicotine. SH**

  
**I'm touching myself thinking of those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. How devilish that razor tongue of yours is... JM**

  
**Pity. I should be the one touching you. SH**

  
**I want that more than anything. JM**

  
**Then get your delicious arse over here so I can take you apart piece by piece. SH**

  
**What about your doctor? JM**

  
**Since when do you show any iota of concern for him? SH**

  
**When you're right, baby, you are very very right. I'll be there as soon as I can. Unlock the door? I don't want to have to break in... JM**

  
**Of course. SH**

  
Sherlock smiled. Being direct was having an effect on both of them. It had never been obvious why the mass populous was so obsessed with "sexting" as they deemed it. Judging by the rather stunning erection in his pajamas, it was an enjoyable past time. It would be much more entertaining to 'sext' Jim when he was out of the country. The sex when he finally got to be with Sherlock was going to prove to be mind blowing. At least, that's what Sherlock suspected. Putting the thoughts of Jim aside, Sherlock decided he was going to check in on John. It would probably be wise to figure out a time frame instead of playing it by ear.

  
**Any progress? SH**

  
**She's more than cross. I can't figure it out. It's probably over. JW**

  
**There might be someone better, John. You never know until you stop looking. SH**

  
Sherlock bit his lip and chewed on it slightly. It was always risky saying things like this to John.

  
**Alright, who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes? JW**

  
**My attempts to make you feel better ultimately end in you questioning my very existence. I don't know why I bother. SH**

  
**Okay, good. Just checking. Though maybe you're right. Maybe I should stop looking. JW**

  
**Let them come to you. Cat and Mouse can be a very fun game when played between the right partners. SH**

  
**Coming home tonight then? SH**

  
**Still on the fence about that. I know she won't let me back in her flat tonight, but I'm en route to meet Greg at the pub. Maybe things will change. JW**

  
**You're being very insistent about my plans this evening. Finally have some of your own? JW**

  
**There's no need to be rude, John. Possibly, but they're hardly your concern. SH**

  
**If not tonight, I'll be home tomorrow afternoon. I have to pop by her house and pick up a few things I left. If she hasn't broken them or thrown them out. JW**

  
**Be safe, John. SH**

  
**Try to get some sleep, yeah? JW**

  
**The night is still young. SH**

  
Sherlock put down his phone and tented his fingers under his chin. This was a risk. Hell, it was always a risk. Jim and John had never gotten along and despite many a protest, Jim's unhealthy obsession with John never seemed to stop. To the best of the knowledge of all who were involved, Sherlock was asexual and John was straight. There were many hints to prove this otherwise.

  
Sherlock cleared his throat and picked up his phone one last time. John needed to be the furthest thing from his mind. Jim would be insanely offended if he even suspected a shift in Sherlock's already flighty attentions. Sherlock smirked as he typed out his text message. There was always something fun about this amount of risk.

  
**I remember telling you to forgo pants this time. SH**

  
**Already taken care of, love. Knock knock. JM**

  
Sherlock smiled as he heard the downstairs door slide open, followed by careful and soft footsteps up the stairs. Jim appeared at the door, his face flushed from the cold. The red from his cheeks and the golden undertones were only accented by the low firelight. Jim smiled at him and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and starting to shuck his outer layers. Sherlock watched Jim carefully as he threw his coat, scarf and gloves over the side of the sofa. Suit. Westwood. Always. Sherlock slowly held out one open palm. Jim chuckled in response and pulled a wadded amount of cloth out of a pocket. Black, silk. Sherlock sighed softly as Jim placed the bundle in his outstretched palm. Soft. Still warm. Sherlock chuckled.

  
"You had forgotten." Sherlock murmured, bringing his hand back to the other under his chin, the black silk pants balled in between his folded hands.

  
"I'm glad you reminded me. Though I had to give the cabbie an extra 50 to not watch." Jim said as he unbuttoned his suit jacket to sit down. "Though I'm almost positive he did anyway." A wicked smile crossed Jim's face.

  
"Stand up." Sherlock said quietly. Jim's smile faltered slightly.

  
"Excuse me?" Jim asked, blinking away his confusion. This wasn't the path Sherlock normally took. There was usually some banter, then all conventions were tossed away with article after article of clothing. Sherlock was apparently in some wickedly exciting mood. Jim's cock twitched, anticipating what would be next.

  
"Stand up." Sherlock said a little more insistently. Jim's sly curiosity was the only thing that got him to a standing position. "Strip." Sherlock commanded, eyes never leaving Jim's face. Jim shivered, those eyes were so intense and he could see desire flashing dangerously behind them. Jim slid his jacket off his arms. The shirt underneath was a deep cobalt blue, his tie a smooth silver grey. He reached up slowly and started pulling the knot apart. Pulling the tie from his neck, he tossed it at Sherlock's lap, who only chuckled softly in response.

  
Sherlock's lips parted as he watched Jim's hands slide up his body to the first fastened button before popping it open and letting his hands fall to the next, repeating the slow movement after tugging his shirt from his trousers. Jim hitched the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Jim was loving the attention. He let his hands slip down his body, finding purchase against his belt. Unfastening it and slowly dragging it from it's loops before letting it drop to the floor with a hard thud. He popped open the button on his trousers, letting them fall a few centimeters to his hips, exposing a faint line of dark hair starting at his belly button and disappearing below the waist band of his trousers before running a teasing finger along the zipper. Jim smiled as he saw Sherlock's tongue dart out to lick his lips, it was anticipation. It was delicious and Jim couldn't wait to feel that tongue running circles all over his skin. He eased the zipper down with an aching slowness that only seduction could provide. Soon, they too joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor, and Jim Moriaty was naked in the middle of the flat, his erection stretching closer to his belly than his thighs.

  
Both men paused, settling into the electricity in the air around them. Jim finally broke the silence to reach one hand out to Sherlock, who upon grasping it was pulled to standing. Jim was suddenly hands and tongue all over any available skin he could find, pulling and pressing himself up against the detective who was still frustratingly clothed. Sherlock did not return any of his advances, save for the breath stealing kisses being torn from his lips. Sherlock suddenly leaned forward and pressed a strong but relatively chaste kiss against his lovers lips before  pushing him toward the bedroom, an open hand splayed across his bare chest. Jim pulled back and made a dash back to the bed, jumping and twirling in midair like a cat, before landing on more or less on his back on the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows, a goofy grin plastered across his face. Sherlock was still laughing when he walked into the bedroom.

  
"Now whatever am I going to do with a naked psychopath in my bed?" Sherlock wondered aloud, pulling his shirt over his head. Jim's mouth fell from a smile to a little round shape, watching Sherlock's curls bounce at the brief manipulation.

  
"Get on top of him and shag him senseless, I would imagine." Jim replied a little breathier than usual. Jim moaned softly watching Sherlock slide his pajamas down a few inches, revealing a stripe of dark pubic hair and the delicious V of his hips pointing like a runway straight to his cock. Jim licked his lips and patted the bed with one hand. Languidly, Sherlock crawled across the bed, settling himself in Jim's lap before leaning down to kiss, lick and bite his way up Jim's neck and to his mouth. Both men moaned, the long anticipated contact finally breaking the game around them. Both of their demeanor shifted abruptly, from seduction and play to fire and passion.

  
It was about this time that Sherlock's phone pinged, but he had left it in the living room. Neither could hear it. Sherlock was grinding his erection into Jim's, fabric against skin, pulling wicked moans from the man underneath him. Not always, but on special occasions, Jim did like it a little rough. Sherlock let a hand slide between them while he was busy sucking a mark onto Jim's collarbone. He laid his hand over his own erection and pressed, trapping both their cocks between Sherlock's hand and Jim's stomach. Sherlock gasped and moaned as Jim's fingers started to push at his pajamas.

  
Sherlock shifted, letting Jim's hands pull down the back of his pajamas. Sherlock gasped as Jim dug his fingers into the soft flesh he found. Jim asked the one word question and Sherlock watched him shift and stretch toward the nightstand drawer. He took this opportunity to rid himself of his trousers and finally rub his own hot naked cock up against Jim, causing the man to falter and gasp.

  
"You are going to be the death of me, Holmes." Jim growled, grinding back against Sherlock and finally capturing the lube hidden in the drawer. Sherlock leaned down, kissing the spot right behind Jim's ear before tonging around the shell.

  
"Le petite mort, mayhaps..." Sherlock whispered causing Jim's whole body to shiver. Jim turned his head and captured Sherlock's mouth with his own before uncapping the lube and spreading some onto a few fingers. Jim wandered his hand in between the clefts of Sherlock's perfect arse, smiling when Sherlock gasped and jerked forward while his finger ghosted over the tight ring of muscle he found. He pressed a finger in, groaning at the heat he was met with.

  
"You're so tight, baby..." Jim whispered, pressing kisses anywhere his mouth would find purchase. "I can't wait to feel how tight, with you wrapped around my cock..." He said, taking out the one finger and replacing it with two. Sherlock moaned. He pressed his fingers in deeper, breath lost as he watched Sherlock's long frame arch above him. Sherlock was breathing heavy now, grinding himself down on Jim's fingers. "So eager, so needy... so perfect..." Jim whispered looking at the pleasure etched over Sherlock's face. Sherlock whimpered as Jim removed his fingers, popping the cap of the lube and slicking up his cock. Sherlock's eyes opened, pupils blown open, overtaking his irises. He nodded slightly and bit his bottom lip. Jim grabbed Sherlock's arse again, shifting him until his own cock found Sherlock's slicked up entrance.

  
Jim teased a little, letting Sherlock feel the heat and the wet drag of his cock before he pressed in and Sherlock pressed down causing hips and thighs to meet a lot faster than either were prepared for. Sherlock let out a loud moan, before starting to rock himself back and forth slowly. Jim was busy running his hands up and down Sherlock's thighs, letting him take control but still being encouraging. He was miles of sweaty pale skin and hard cock, Jim could only think of how beautiful he looked. Sherlock began picking up his pace, grinding faster, his hips moving sharply. Jim let his head fall back, lost for a moment in sensation before his eyes opened again, falling on a completely debauched looking man fucking him in the most heart stoppingly gorgeous way possible. Jim wrapped his hands around Sherlock's hips, using some of his own strength to push and pull at Sherlock, making his hips move faster. Both men were moaning loudly now, only able to hear the other.

  
Which is why, in the midst of their fuckery, they didn't notice the downstairs door open. They didn't hear the tell-tale foot falls on the steps. They didn't hear the door to the flat open, and the sure as hell didn't hear John's voice calling out for Sherlock. Both men were lost, close, absorbed in the other. Jim felt Sherlock begin to tense which almost immediately brought him to the edge. Jim wrapped his hand around the cock dribbling precum onto his belly and began to stroke it in time with Sherlock's movements. All at once, Sherlock's body stuttered and he moaned out Jim's name, coming white hot lines onto the man's chest. Upon seeing Sherlock fall apart, Jim's head snapped back and with one final thrust, filling Sherlock up with his cum.

  
"What in the fucking fuck....?!" Both men's head snapped to the open bedroom door, where a drunk John Watson stood, swaying slightly. The only one out of the three of them that was moving was John, only because he was at that peculiar part of inebriation that was slightly too drunk to stand but nowhere near drunk enough to collapse. Though without the adrenaline coursing through him, he probably would have fainted judging by the way he was grasping white knuckled on the frame of the door. "S'm one has got to explain to t'me." John slurred, shutting his eyes and covering them with his free hand. "Not naked though." He added, turning around unsteadily and heading back out to the living room. Jim's eyes met Sherlock's, silently asking a million questions to which Sherlock did not have an answer to. Sherlock bent down, kissed him and rose to put his pajamas on. He reached in a drawer and tossed another pair in Jim's direction and headed out to the living room. When Jim appeared, he had walked into the middle of an epic staring contest.

  
Awkward. The whole room felt awkward. Sensing the tension and John's obvious hatred of him, Jim started to quietly pick up the clothes from the floor. He turned to walk back to the bedroom, paused and walked over to Sherlock instead. Sherlock was like a statue, but Jim leaned down and kissed him on the top of his head before scurrying back into the bedroom. Once Jim was gone, John's eyes narrowed, focusing harshly on Sherlock.

  
"So, if I had known psychopathic murderers were what got you going..." John said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  
"Oh for heaven's sake, John. It's not like that." Sherlock said, suddenly exasperated. He was bitter, he didn't like having his post orgasmic glow stolen from him so harshly. It probably would have been better to have gotten up to shut the door and returned to Jim. He was suddenly vindictive. John had obviously heard them and had come to investigate. Was he curious and trying to join? Or just being drunk and nosy?

  
"Then what is it?" John asked.

  
"You're drunk and I have no intention of entertaining these particularly paranoid notions of yours." Sherlock said, head turning when he noticed a more or less fully dressed Jim step out of his bedroom. As he walked into the living room, John's heated gaze focused on him. John's body language was screaming at Jim to get the hell out of the flat.

  
"Seeing your supposedly righteous flat mate coming all over the chest of not only his one sworn mortal enemy but the man who kidnapped me and strapped a bomb to my chest has a funny way of snapping one into sobriety." John said, quietly but firmly, his eyes never leaving Jim.

  
"I assume I'm no longer welcome here, plus you two seem to have a rather sizable discussion ahead of you." Jim said, stuffing his tie into his pocket and reaching for his coat. Sherlock stood and walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to spin him around and place a kiss against his lips. A small, apologetic offer. Sherlock's hand drifted down his arm and captured his hand, giving it a squeeze before letting his hand return to his side. A promise of an explanation later. Jim offered a small half smile and quickly exited before John had the wherewithal to do something violent.

  
"So what kind of sick, twisted play is this, Sherlock?" John asked, turning his burning gaze back to Sherlock once he finally sat back down.

  
"There is no play or plan here, John. We connected." Sherlock offered. Sherlock was having a hard time comprehending why John was so upset.

  
"A 'connection' with a serial killer who originally wanted us both dead." John replied sarcastically, emphasizing connection with air quotes. "Oh yeah, sounds perfectly healthy." He bit out.

  
"What are you honestly angry about? The fact that he was here or the fact that I was with someone?" Sherlock asked quietly. This proved to only make John angrier.

  
"Are you accusing me of being jealous? Fuck, Sherlock. For an intelligent person, you really are stunningly stupid." John's face had gone from the pallor of shock to a slightly pink twinge.

  
"If your body language is any indication, then I'm afraid you are mistaken." Sherlock countered.

  
"You let an arsonist, a murderer into our flat, Sherlock! The same one that kidnapped me and tried to kill me. I walk in from a messy breakup and there you are shagging him like nothing happened!" John was finally escalating to yelling.

  
"What exactly did you expect me to do if I were here alone? Console you? Comfort you? You above anyone else know that even for you, that sort of ludicrous sentiment is something I do not do." Sherlock countered, his voice also raising in volume. "Tell me, John. Tell me what you were hoping for when you walked in tonight."

  
"Sherlock, whether you believe it or not, you're my best friend. I was hoping, like every other time some woman dumps me because she thinks I'm hung up on you, that you would be here to make fun of her while I was miserable. That you would do that thing you always do, trying to make me laugh. Failing and making me laugh anyway." John was standing now, gesturing wildly. "I was hoping you would be there when I needed you, instead of the other way around." He said surprisingly quietly compared to the earlier fervor of his voice. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. It was getting harder for both of them to stay ignorant. This had to stop. Sherlock wanted John to see the truth, and like most truths, there was a lot of anger to get through first.

  
"Jim was there in a way you always denied, John." Sherlock said quietly, fixing a poignant stare at his flat mate. "There has been something between us since we were first introduced and to be completely honest, I was tired of waiting for you to come 'round. The endless string of women was heartbreaking, and I felt it best for the both of us to move on to someone who wasn't constantly denying themselves." Sherlock explained as calmly as he could, through both heard the anger, frustration and pain laced into those words. "I love you, John and I have for a very long time. You were just to blind to see what was right in front of you."

  
"God fucking damnit, Sherlock. I didn't think it was possible but I hate you more that Moriarty and Mycroft combined at the moment." John murmured scrubbing a hand over his face and collapsing back in his chair. "What do you want me to say here, hmm? That I've loved you for a long time too? That the only reason I kept trying to date was to fill something empty inside of me that I seriously doubted you could fill? You're a sociopath, Sherlock. When you're on cases, you ignore everything until you solve it. You even said to me you were married to your work. How could I ever possibly compete with that?" John asked. John sighed into the silence. "You know, for two people who supposedly love each other, we don't talk much... do we?" John wondered, a small and unstable smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

  
"Then talk to me, John. I'd like a moment to put on some proper clothes, but if you'd like to talk..." Sherlock paused waiting until their eyes met. "I'm not tired."

  
"You being shirtless and freshly fucked is throwing me off a bit..." John admitted, his smile getting a little wider. Sherlock stood and returned his small smile before walking off to the bedroom. "Wait a tick..." John called after him. Sherlock's head popped back around the corner, a questioning look on his face. "I thought you were a virgin." John was surprised when Sherlock openly laughed.

  
"You aren't the first and you won't be the last." He turned away, but called back. "Do your research!" John smiled, but it didn't feel right. It was going to be a long night, but with no incoming cases and no one else to steal his attention, John was looking forward to it. Sherlock was right, this conversation was a long time coming. He was still trying to shake off the initial overall sense of creepiness knowing Moriarty had been in the flat, and not for the first time. This place was going to need to be sanitized. Though, if this conversation went the way he hoped, there wouldn't really be a point. With a determined nod of his head, he bent down to take off his shoes. John finally stood after a few deep breaths, shucked off his outer layers finally, and padded into the kitchen to start the tea.


End file.
